


Behind his Mask

by Ladibard_Wordsmith28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, First Night, Good Severus Snape, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Severus Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladibard_Wordsmith28/pseuds/Ladibard_Wordsmith28
Summary: Severus Snape and Hermione Granger's first night doesn't go as the world would have imagined. Even then, the two happened to reveal more about themselves than they had in the last seven years. (au) (oc)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 17
Kudos: 122





	Behind his Mask

Disclaimer: I don't own JKR's characters, I am just fiddling with them for the time being.

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**Behind his Mask**

**Behind his Mask**

There were moments in time when the hands of the clock simply refused to move further. The biggest wheels of the hour’s hand tugged at the meshes and pinions which controlled the minute’s hand and they, in turn, pulled hard at the second’s fast-spinning wheel forcing it to come to a screeching halt. Then there are those godforsaken moments in her life when no matter how much she prayed or wished for things to become agreeable, all three of those clock hands conspired to bring her world down at all costs. The three hands would race against her struggling heart, mocking its miserable disposition, taunting in simple words, "We are invincible. Not even your previous Time-Turner can save you from an early grave. Though, come to think of it Miss Granger, your magnificent brain and your selfless heart are doing a fantastic job already."

While in her first-year, she had watched Mr. Filch tend to the giant school clock from below the tower. During several of her trips to the Infirmary, she had the opportunity to study its fascinating parts. She never had the opportunity to see Big Ben from this close, even if she had ridden the Giant Wheel. The horrific experience had haunted her, making her parents aware of her fear of heights. Hogwarts Tower Clock and its huge bells were marvelous, more ancient, and superior to Big Ben. From the corner of her eye, Hermione Granger took a last look at the mantelpiece and inhaled, ‘ _This one would have smaller parts.’_

But in real life, clocks didn't work that way. In fact, all three of them were controlled by one mastermind- the arbors. It was around her third-year term break when she had chanced upon a muggle article explaining the physics behind clock mechanics. Missing her Time-Turner and worried about Harry, she wanted to read something other than magical subjects for the first time in her life. Those figurative notions about the hour hand throttling the minute's hand and the latter all too eager to choke the second hand in order make a clock go standstill had got crashed and killed like many of her childish beliefs. To her, the arbors were akin to fate and destiny.

Having said all that, her heart still jumped by the way a timepiece ticked on relentlessly. She held in the frigid air of the cold castle for a little longer, before exhaling out softly, mindful of the other occupant in the room.

Her nerves were jumpy since they had returned to Hogwarts. _Not for what was going to happen, of course,_ she reminded herself. She had long resigned to living the rest of her remaining life with Snape.

Fisting her hands, she started counting under her breath. She couldn't let him see her crumble before... maybe, later on, she could try to lock herself in the adjoining bathroom, lie down in the small ivory-white tub, fold her body into a tight ball and live through it. If she couldn't make it special for him, she could at least try not to ruin it either. In many ways, this was supposed to be his first time as well.

She stole another glance at the clock, 'Thirty minutes to midnight,' then went back to studying the other occupant's bowed head and drooping shoulders. If they don't complete the marital bonds within forty-eight hours of getting married, all her plans, and his sacrifices will go in vain. She didn't want to push him either. That would make her look like a desperate naive girl. She wasn't desperate…but…she was naive, being half his age, with no real experience...

 _'I know the basics, but it isn’t enough,'_ she blushed inwardly. A few steamy kisses with Victor Krum didn't count. She never initiated them in the first place. She wasn't really the type young boys would be interested in. That Yule Ball, during her fourth year, was one singular Cinderella moment for her. Kissing Ron just didn't sit well with her. As per the new law, they did have a full day at hand, but she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, mostly for his sake.

Standing in the quiet Headmaster's office she finally had the courage to bring it up. The portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses had already left after greeting the Snapes cordially. Leaning against the large desk, he had looked at her for a long time, before leading her to the bedroom in the Headmaster's private chambers. The house-elves had already brought up her trunk and had arranged her clothes in the twin wardrobe. He had let her prepare first. She noticed the room wasn't opulent. Rather it mirrored Snape's inherent character. It was practical, masculine, stripped of unnecessary decoration and knick-knacks.

There was a small square portrait beside the door which was currently empty. The walls were covered with midnight blue wallpaper, but there wasn't a lot to see. Tall bookshelves surrounded the room. Rows and rows of black leather-bounds stood like mute sentinels stationed to guard the owner of the room while he slept. For the rest of the day, he didn't need them other than for lame references. Only two tactless cheerful bay windows stood out like eyesores. She imagined Snape's permanent scowl for having to live with the constant fear of these two throwing their shutters open and exposing the insides of his private lair to the happy sun, the sleepy moon, the fluffy clouds, and the sweet breeze of summer. Presently even they had obediently shut their glass panes and snuggly pulled over the dark curtains giving the unlikely couple all the privacy needed at this hour.

Her husband was a loner, a spy, a dangerous wizard and never expressed the need to socialize or seek someone's company.

There were a couple pieces of furniture; the twin wardrobes, a commonplace dresser with a mounted mirror, a twin size four-poster bed flanked by one bedside table, and a spacious worn-out armchair. Every one of them made out of the same ebony black wood, like his infamous wand. Flicking her eyes at the mirror, she wondered if he ever looked at his reflection. He never really seemed to care much about his appearance. It wasn't magical, just an ordinary mirror chafed off at the edges. The armchair too looked nearly half a century old, making her wonder if he had picked it up from a garage sale or an auction or a thrift shop. The rug, heavy curtains, bedsheets, and even the stack of towels in the small bathroom were emerald green, plunging the whole space into forced darkness that could compete with the cold and unfriendly dungeons. Among them, the red and golden tartan throw draped over the armchair flashed like a car headlight in a dense forest.

Shifting on her legs, she trailed her eyes down his bowed back and felt like a trespasser and not the lawful mistress of this room.

At the other end of the small bedroom, Severus Snape was taking his time to remove his clothes one by one. Though he had never imagined himself getting married, here he was with his seventeen years younger wife waiting for him to sleep with her and finally become husband and wife in the eyes of Magic and Law.

Discarding his cravat, he unclasped his pitch-black robes reminding himself, _'I am doing this for Albus. And Minerva. And Miss Granger. Merlin, Albus, don't ask me to love her...I can't bring myself to do that. I can't do injustice to Miss Granger...I can't get carried away by her private thoughts'_ His reasons no longer sounded reasonable...they were weak excuses that he desperately tried to shield himself with. Deep down he knew he was already fighting a lost battle. In the last eight hours, he had learned more about his wife than any married man had ever managed even after celebrating a hundred anniversaries of being together.

To sum it up in a single sentence, Granger didn't just fancy him she worshipped him unconditionally.

 _Stop lying; you know that is not even half of what she feels for you!_ His conscience yelled back. Nodding back he conceded. She respected him not just as a teacher or a scholar but as a human being. She considered his discomfort as her own, valued his preferences, taking extra measures to adjust herself around him in those brief hours they had spent together. While apart, as he had poured through the files Minerva had given him, troubled by Hermione's submissive attitude. The witch he had the pleasure to teach for the last seven years was assertive, aggressive, dominant, bossy, intuitive, brave and prickly. 

His fingers trembled as he remembered reading the words in Miss Granger's medical files, "The patient had been reportedly subjected to the Cruciatus Curse for long durations, there are other visible damages. Apart from extensive peripheral nerve injury which seems to continue to linger even after intensive remedial treatment...distorted uterus... the residual presence of Dark Magic...It is difficult to treat her...the permanent scar on her hand hinders all attempts…"

He could see her reflection in the mirror mounted over the dresser. The feisty Gryffindor witch stood statue still facing away from the bed, staring at a spot with a blank expression, perhaps preparing herself for the inevitable. Who was he lying to? He huffed inwardly. Granger's racing thoughts were too loud to ignore. If he was thinking about her, she was doing just the same, thinking only about him from across the room.

It was a trying week. After the fall of the Dark Lord, Snape had finally succumbed to the waves of years old exhaustion. His mental shields had come crashing down like an avalanche. He was too tired to think, plan, or even perform the most mundane tasks to stay alive. He didn't oppose Granger's frantic attempts at reviving him at the Shrieking Shack. Nor did he have the strength to tell her he had already taken the anti-venom.

He allowed them to carry him back to the castle, allowed Poppy to undress him, and tuck him into his designated hospital bed hidden behind a secret door. He allowed her to feed him food, fluids, potions, whatever the mediwitch came armed with, and replace the bandages from time to time. During the first few days he simply enjoyed the freedom of staying asleep for hours, finally not having to worry about the world. No megalomaniac master to report to. No Headmaster to inform about the next DeathEater attacks. No innocent people getting tortured in front of his helpless eyes. No student to berate. No ridiculously pathetic assignments to correct. No night patrols or sneaking out of the castle. His Dark Mark no longer throbbed. The horrible moving skull and snake had finally vanished, replaced by a charred mark. For the moment, he wasn't keen to investigate it. After too long, the castle finally felt safe much like a mother's embrace. Even his nightmares stopped scaring him. And whenever they did, Poppy's fingers were there to soothe him and brush off his long hair from his forehead. He didn't flinch or jerk away. 

Among all his visitors, only Longbottom stayed behind the longest, reading the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler aloud from the stool beside his bed. Though none could still believe the boy had slaughtered Nagini, Voldemort's vicious familiar, Snape believed it wholeheartedly, regretted not being on the scene to witness the actual earth-shattering event.

It was always exhilarating to watch the most fumbling students finally stand tall and face the world fearlessly. He counted that as the ultimate repayment of the effort he would put to educate them. They thought he hated the profession but Snape didn't hate teaching once he had managed to master the ropes of it. He hated laziness, a callous approach, and blatant disregard for education. He enjoyed the way, over a short period of time, Longbottom had morphed into a confident young man. Alice and Frank's only son was no longer stuttering, cowering behind his classmates and tripping over his own feet. 

Six days after the Battle the Aurors came for him. The students opposed, so did the Staff members. But before wands came out and spells and curses started bouncing around the room, Snape had gotten up slowly, dressed, handed his wand over to the surprised Head Auror, hugged Poppy, then Minerva, and had walked to the fireplace with his spine straight, shoulders square, and robes billowing at his wake. The Aurors had eyed him with a mixture of awe and apprehension, as he stood beside the fireplace patiently waiting for the small party to come back to their senses and escort him out of Hogwarts.

His short stay at Azkaban was uneventful. His dingy cell was equipped with just a cot and a blanket. It had a comparatively larger skylight which forced the Dementors to stay away. The guards fed him from time to time and allowed him to rest as long as he wanted. He smirked at the arrangement, _Indeed, there were more people outside, powerful influential people who wanted to see me off that island located somewhere in the North Sea more than ever. People like Potter, McGonagall, Shacklebolt, the Weasley family who had regained the public favor..._ But he never counted Miss Granger to be among them. Why? Why didn't he? _Because she was a student_ , he had hissed back mentally. According to his deep-seated principles, she was off-limits.

Even if he could distinctly feel her feeble fingers closing over his gaping wounds desperately trying to stop all the blood. Even if he could remember her unique smell. So close to dying, Severus Snape had finally relished the comfort of being hugged by a complete stranger. Miss Granger wasn't a stranger, per se, but she hadn't been this close ever before. It was her proximity that was new to him. Her touch, her whispers of prayers were new to him but not her intoxicating and maddening smell. It was the oldest sensation he had the honor to live with. Only this time around, he could put a name to it.

Laying immobile, soaked in his own blood, counting his own breath, Snape had cracked the mystery behind his Amortentia. It was the oldest of the unsolved mysteries he had come across in his eventful life. With Lily dead, he would never know how it would feel like to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, tenderly, passionately or lazily. What would his mornings be like waking up next to her or nights be like making love to her. He knew for sure that his Amortentia potion did not smell like Lily Evans.

He stole another glance at his young wife's reflection in the mirror and sighed. Ever since their ministry officiated marriage at the Wizengamot, the young witch had said little to nothing. Potter and Weasley had acted as her witnesses, while both Kingsley and McGonagall acted as his witnesses. Unlike Albus, Shacklebolt knew when to leave him to himself. He spoke less, pried little and for that Snape was grateful to the man.

The young witch had stood like a statue beside him as they allowed the reporters to click photographs in the Atrium. Snape had discreetly placed his large palm against the small of her back. At that cue, Granger had leaned into his person, making a perfect picture for the front page. After shaking hands with one uncomfortable Potter and grumpy Weasley they had flooed away to McGonagall's Cabin House. In the honour of Snape's release and subsequent recovery, as well as to mark the marriage of the millennium, Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had arranged for a little feast. They were joined shortly by Minister Shacklebolt, making Snape aware this was also about the Order. 

"Severus, I know it is overwhelming for you, so we thought better not to head back to Hogwarts right away," the older witch had whispered as she handed him a glass of Firewhisky.

From the other end of the small square table, Shacklebolt eyed Hermione then said, "You can apparate sometime around evening. I have my people watching the castle. We just want both of you safe. Severus, I am not questioning your duelling skills nor am I belittling you Madam Snape, but the public will take some time to accept this marriage."

"Yes, Severus, for your own safety many of the teachers and members of the Staff are staying back. We are still to rebuild it. Even then, we couldn’t let you return to your Spinner's End home. The Headmaster's Office and private quarters seem to recognize you as its legitimate owner. The same goes for your former quarters in the dungeons. The castle refused to allow anyone inside."

Hermione had looked at him at that with a million questions dancing in her large brown eyes. But Snape had just grunted in reply, concentrating on his plate instead. He had chosen to stay quiet for the rest of the meal allowing both the veteran Order members to fill him in with the post-war events, especially the drab trivial ones. He knew Granger was stealing glances at him, but he didn't acknowledge her for once.

The late Albus Dumbledore had instructed Severus to stay alive and continue to act as both the Head of the Order of Phoenix and the Headmaster of Hogwarts. After his grand escape from the Astronomy Tower, both McGonagall and Shacklebolt had worked with Arthur Weasley to compile the valuable pieces of evidence to save him from the claws of Azkaban, letting the blind Mystery of Magic to pursue the invisible footsteps of Snape. 

Albus might have tried to keep everything a grand secret but he had failed to judge his comrades. Parts of it, they already knew; for example, the fact that he was going to die an excruciatingly painful death. Snape's dramatic act of murdering his own mentor in front of Potter and the rest of the younger Order members had planted the first seeds of doubt in Minerva and Shacklebolt's minds. The witch knew in her heart the potion master's return as the Headmaster of Hogwarts was a pre-planned move orchestrated by Albus. Voldemort was just playing according to Albus' plans. After his ridiculous display of fending off McGonagall's spells at the Great Hall, they had guessed the rest. Alas, Severus' imprisonment was the only thing they had not considered. When the Aurors had unceremoniously dragged the man to that godforsaken island, crushing them, denting the confidence they had on the Wizengamot, Granger had come at once to their rescue.

"This is ridiculous! Professor Snape cannot go to Azkaban. He is still healing from Nagini's bite. We can't let this happen. Harry will vouch for him, I will fight tooth and nail...and Neville, trust me Professor McGonagall, has a lot to say. Seamus and Ginny, all of them have seen how the Headmaster had tried to keep them away from the Carrows," Hermione said, sounding convinced as if she had a plan already taking shape in her brilliant mind.

The other Order Members present in the room had sat back dumbfounded, finding it hard to decide whether she was the same witch whom Snape had insulted and ignored throughout her school life or an entirely new person.

"Miss Granger...this will need a lot…" Shacklebolt tried to pacify her.

The witch had handled over two rolls of paper and continued excitedly, "I know, I need to leaf through old case files. I also need to know about his role as a DeathEater. Don't worry about that, I have talked with the Malfoys and they have agreed to help. Minister Shacklebolt, I will need permission to access the Ministry archives and Professor McGonagall, can you help me with compiling a list of students who have taken up potions as one of their NEWTs subjects since Professor Snape has been teaching as the Potion Master."

Flabbergasted Minerva cleared her throat and asked, "And what are you going to do with it?"

"Send letters and threaten them to come to the trial and testify on behalf of their teacher," the witch grinning wildly.

Amelia Bones felt her hands were truly tied as she went through the recent events in her head. Snape and Granger, together they would make a formidable team. But behind this high profile marriage, there were secrets, ' _If the Daily Prophet ever got a whiff of it, we are doomed.'_

The healers of St. Mungo’s had explained to her the true nature of Granger's medical complications. She had tried to dissuade the stubborn witch from submitting her name into the system. Together with McGonagall, she had visited Grimmauld Place and had sat down with the girl. It was unnerving and sad to watch the Golden Trio sitting together on the opposite couch, looking mature way beyond their age.

"Miss Granger, Hermione, I know you wish to help but try to understand, Snape is not an easy man," Turning to Ronald Weasley sitting beside the scowling witch, she had asked for help, "Mr. Weasley, I remember reading about both of you being together?"

Ron had shocked the two elderly witches with his thorough explanation, "Madam Bones with due respect since when has the Prophet printed credible news! Yes, we did kiss, but it was one heat-of-the-moment thing. I am supporting Hermione's decision and I have solid reasons for that. I have seen through Snape's memories along with Harry but more than that, I owe Professor Snape for saving my father's life as well as shielding Fred from the Killing Curse at the very last moment. Yes, I agree he is a git. Forgive me, Professor McGonagall. But Hermione is too good at giving it back to him. I think we should rather worry about Professor Snape. That man might have taught us but he really didn't have to share a tent with Hermione. She is worse than my Mum. She is brilliant but scary."

Harry Potter had sat hugging his best friend nodding almost immediately, "I know it sounds weird and all but once I started looking past his mask, I found Snape to be a very different person. Dumbledore trusted him," flailing his hand at Granger, he continued, “Not that I am all that happy with her decision. Yes, I agree you should have settled for someone younger but Mione, you are way ahead of us. I think the Compatibility Testing Spell is correct, Professor Flitwick invented a brilliant thing." Then grinning broadly, he quipped, "Yeah! Hermione is terrifying when she gets angry. Snape will have his hands full."

Sniffling in his arms, the young witch had smacked him hard, muttering in indignation and embarrassment, "Thank you, Harry James Potter, for painting such a rosy picture of me. I don't bite."

From her other side, Ron had smirked, "Oh, no, no you don't bite first. But he is always the one exploding and biting heads off. So we can very well imagine what you might do to him right after."

Biting the insides of their cheek, both the older witches had flooed back to the Ministry to inform Shacklebolt in no simple words, "Stubborn meets stubborn. And those to babbling baboons are already betting on who is going to kill whom first."

"But you didn't tell her anything about her medical conditions, did you?" Shacklebolt sat back and enquired.

"I couldn't...even if it did cross my mind. It wouldn't have done her any good, Kingsley," McGonagall sighed while Madam Bones weighed their options, "Snape, in spite of being foul tempered, has proven to be a level headed person. I would like to count on him."

Minerva had squared her shoulders informing, "Then I would like to be the person to tell him about Granger's medical conditions. Amelia you can explain to him the legalities and Kingsley, just linger around, he wouldn't ask for it, but he will need you."

Snape had sat through his trial listening to the witch's passionate discourse with a bored look on his face. Her observations and references were airtight. Even the officials flanking Madam Amelia Bones had nodded in appreciation from time to time. He had guessed the involvement of Arthur, Kingsley, and McGonagall in helping her build the case but there were other things she mentioned that made him flinch in his seat.

Granger mentioned Lily and his friendship in the passing. She had shown the world her own assignments littered with his red remarks saying, “Now, many of us know how difficult it is to please Professor Snape. But I would like to draw the attention of this court and beg them to read in between the lines. Ignore the insults for the time being and actually reread the comments. On and on he is either complimenting or insisting me to think before coming to hasty conclusions. Only an extremely intelligent man is capable of hiding compliments behind such sarcastic words," she had smirked. From behind his long hair, Snape had watched the members of the jury finally coming to the same conclusion and bit the insides of his cheek in self-mortification.

Next, she had pulled up previous records of students' marks. "As you will notice, ever since Professor Snape has started teaching potions at Hogwarts, the percentage of students fairing at the subject has gone up. Currently, Hogwarts is counted as the most prestigious magical school producing nearly three fourths of the potion scholars, researchers, alchemists, and potion masters and mistresses of Europe and Africa put together. Our ex-students are currently teaching in American, Australian, African, Peruvian, and Brazilian magical schools. And the onus of this feat lies in the hands of the youngest Potion Master magical Britain has ever produced."

"Ladies and gentlemen, you must have heard of the elusive 'Alan Prince’? All of you have already, rather passionately debated on his numerous thesis’ on subjects ranging between Herbology, Medi-wizardry, Potions, Mind Magic and Dark Arts, haven't you? Wished to meet the genius for once, applaud him for his contributions and award him perhaps?" pointing at Snape, the witch had politely declared, "Here is your chance to thank him. Professor Severus Snape writes under the pseudonym of Alan Prince. Now if you are trying to charge him with treason, think again. This man has not only built the very ground each one of you happen to stand on but he has also bled time and again to protect it as well."

"Professor Snape is a little harsh but he still replies to my letters…in his own way," Jeremy Cobalt, a short built Ravenclaw said, "based on his observations and suggestions my company has launched a new line of caldrons. These are more durable and heat resistant."

The prime medical supplier of St. Mungo’s Gregory Biggit fiddled with his fob chain and stated, "Only recently has it been brought to my knowledge that my newly No-Mess No-Pain Sustainable Bandages were Professor Snape's idea. Sir, an ingenious invention, and there is still more! Invisible thread and painless suturing needles which leaves no scar behind. It has revolutionized medical surgery," before the man could launch into his practiced salesman's speech, Madam Bones had stopped him and asked him to let the next witness have his bit.

He had zoned out when more students approached the witness box, one by one, sharing their stories of how he had been instrumental in turning their lives for the better. From her high chair, Madam Bones had simply sat back, stared at him in a mute challenge. He had glowered at her in reply each time her smirk stretched a bit. 

Before he was presented in the courtroom, Madam Bones had met him in private.

"Mr. Snape, Albus had left a long note with me, explaining your special role in both the First and Second Wizardry War. Now, there are several things, neither we nor you would want the public to know. A spy has to do a number of things which is deemed punishable by law. But here we are focussing on the circumstances. With that said, we cannot paint a sorrier picture of the Ministry of Magic. Even with most of the former minister dead, we still have men and women working with us for a long time. We cannot let the public turn their wrath on these innocent people. They were just following the orders of their superiors the whole time. Now, Potter's declaration at the heat of the battle has done much of the groundwork for us. But we can't hoodwink the law as the muggles put it. We will have to act according to its rules and simply find an appropriate loophole to keep you from returning to Azkaban for good. It is what Dumbledore had wanted. And personally, I would want you as the next Headmaster of Hogwarts. We need to secure our future and we need a very powerful and level-headed man for the job. The board of Governors unanimously vote in favor of you," Madam Bones stopped and waited for Snape to say something.

The man sitting on the other end of the metal table watched her. His palms and their ten long bony fingers lay flat on the cold surface. Even without his wand, he looked like a dangerous predator. As she continued to study him, she caught the edge of his eyes crinkle and his jaw clench. After one whole minute, he just uttered a single word, “Loophole?" She knew Kingsley had already warned him about the newly passed Magical Marriage Law.

Dumbledore had warned her of Snape's foul temper from beforehand, **_"Amelia,"_** his letter had read _,_ **_"Remember, present all the facts in front of him. He doesn't like being lied to or being kept in the dark. He is very sharp. If you hide facts, he will find it out and then you won't be able to earn his trust."_**

She steeled her nerves and weighed her next words cautiously, "We have already worked out that bit. The Ministry of Magic's Absolute Compatibility Testing Spell has already given us the name of your future wife."

Snape's nostrils flared and the sides of his temple began throbbing with a dull ache. He continued to speak in the same cold dispassionate tone, "Name?"

Madam Bones sagged against the closed door and took a deep breath. It was most unsettling to see Severus Snape accept all her proposals without any argument. This new withdrawn and restrained man frightened her. 'Perhaps Dumbledore was right all along...perhaps Snape had figured it out already...he knew that he would be paired with Granger, but how?' wracking her brain, the Head of the Wizengamot stared at the opposite wall and smirked, "Once a spy always a spy."

Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt cancelled the disillusionment spell and smirked back at her, "I was going to say the same thing."

"He seems to have figured it out already," she stated aloud rubbing her forehead out of habit.

"He wasn't surprised when I sat down and tried to explain the Magical Marriage Law to him," the minister whispered.

"He couldn't possibly guess…," Amelia stopped when Shacklebolt raised his hand.

"We have Neville and Dumbledore to thank for that. Yes, Mr. Longbottom had been visiting the Hospital Wing and spent a lot of time reading the newspapers to the Potion Master. Confined to his bed, he had enough time on his hands to think it through. And Snape himself mentioned that Dumbledore had once discussed possible ways to rebuild Magical Britain once Voldemort was killed. I was, in turn, shocked when he asked me what we were planning to do with the war-orphans."

"So he's not cross with the prospect of getting married?"

"Snape is a complicated man who has lived a troubled life. Amelia, I think he is going to be very clinical about the whole thing. Let's see how he reacts to Minerva's disclosure," guiding the witch by the arm, he started walking away, "We have to get to the biggest trial of the millennium. We better not be late. It would be interesting to watch him incapable of reacting to the grand stage Granger has arranged. The press is going to go mad."

As Severus busied himself preparing for his small wedding ceremony after getting exonerated for his wartime crimes, Minerva had informed him the rest of it. He had smirked at Weasley's observation and had grimaced at the mention of Potter.

"Mr. Ronald Weasley knew it had to be you. He said only you could have access to Gryffindor's sword. Only you could manage to sneak about undetected like that and save Fred. He is quite good when he is on his own. He really has to step out of the shadows of Potter and Granger."

"If he stops acting like a lazy dunderhead," he muttered back from the other side of the partition.

"Potter wants to talk with you, face to face."

"I could guess from the way he was gawking at me through my trial. I hear he is going to train for an Auror job. Tell him not to waste his time. He lacks subtly," he drawled trying to get a rise out of the Transfiguration Professor.

The old Witch had grown quiet after a while and Snape could tell something else was worrying the Gryffindor colleague.

"Minerva, I promise I will not gobble up your favorite cub," he said.

"Shut up, Severus. That's not my concern currently. I am rather worried about Hermione."

Her trembling voice and soft sniffles made him walk over to her almost immediately.

Sitting beside her, taking her trembling hand into his own, he asked, "Tell me everything."

"What made you think I am hiding anything…"

Rolling his eyes, he squeezed her wrinkled hand and sighed, "I could tell because you happen to be a horrible liar."

Turning in her seat, McGonagall spoke at once, "The incident at Malfoy Manor…"

Snape interrupted, "I know about Bellatrix's torture...what else?"

"Oh, I should have thought of that. Severus, it is not so simple" nodded her head. Minerva brought out a file and handed it over to the man.

As she watched him study the Healers' notes, she continued speaking in hushed whispers, "You know how the Cruciatus Curse works. Poppy has told me everything about your prolonged stays at the hospital, Severus. But Hermione is a muggle-born witch, yes it's true she is quite powerful but...the curse coupled with the one Dolohov had inflicted upon her...as much as we have learned from the cases at hand, muggle-borns don't survive for long if their magical core gets extensively depleted. To add to that, that lunatic witch had cut her open with her cursed knife….the Healers have too much to worry about. Of course, I have not mentioned it to Hermione. But she is smart. Severus…I think she agreed to marry you because she is aware, you would never aspire for a family… you will never wish to attach yourself to anyone. You did love Lily fiercely. I think she is counting on that and maybe she already knows she will not live long enough. She did mention it to Potter, 'Professor Snape will soon have a choice in his life, I owe him that much'. The young man didn't like the sound of it and came up at once asking for my help. But I am at loss Severus. The girl apparently has no one. The doctor Grangers no longer exist in both the muggle and the magical systems."

Closing the file with a snap, the man rose and pulled the witch up along with him.

"Minnie, I promise you I will protect Miss Granger. Her symptoms are still mild. And if it counts, I owe this to her. This life debt goes in two ways."

Hugging him with all her feeble strength, McGonagall cried,' Thank you, Severus. Thank you, my boy."

Snape had watched his new wife throughout the evening. Gone was the impatient student and in her place sat a poised young woman. He thought, ‘ _She could give any pure-blood witch a run for her money._ ' Never before had he the chance to study her so minutely. Her bushy hair had finally agreed to fan her almond-shaped face and her shoulders tumbling down her back in soft waves of chestnut brown. She had grown from a struggling teenager to a reasonable young woman.

Granger didn't flinch or grimace when he had offered to side along apparate back to the school. Placing his arm around her waist, he had felt the edge of her hip from under those thick robes. His wife was too thin for her age. Reappearing in front of the gargoyle gates of the Scottish castle, he had sensed the onset of the tremors. Under the night sky, he couldn't makeover her reaction though. Granger had simply stepped back before he could mention it and without a word, waited for him to unlock the gate. She held her head high, her back straight while she walked beside him from the Apparition point to the castle.

Even now, as he continued to watch her reflection, Severus' mind wandered off to the file sitting in the front drawer of his desk. After returning to Hogwarts, he had excused himself, leaving Hermione in the company of Madam Sprout, Professor Flitwick, and Madam Pomphrey. First, he had gone down to his personal lab and collected the potions she would need once the seizures began.

Locking himself inside his old quarters, he had brought out his own medical files and had begun comparing it with that of Granger's. Indeed the healers of St. Mungo's had reasons to worry. If she was to marry any other wizard, they wouldn’t have managed to help her through her episodes. Only Snape knew how to deal with them. The more he thought, the more he realized why Amelia, Minerva, and Shacklebolt were relieved that it was him Hermione was going to marry and not any other young wizard. If Snape didn't wish for a child, the world won't dare to question his wife's ability to bear children. The law was more about repopulating magical Britain. Snape had already dropped the hint he wanted to do something for the numerous war orphans. He shook his head, scolding himself mentally, _'Now was not the time to think on that subject.'_

Casting another glance at the mirror, he cursed impatiently, " _It's been nearly two hours since we returned. Any time now. But this foolish girl! She thinks she can go through the last bit of the nuptial bonding spell…_ "

He was about to peel off his frock coat when he caught it. In the reflection of the mirror, Granger was growing pale...she was taking in short breathes... he knew what they were… her heart must be beating hard, her mind must have started fogging...the first signs of the nerve attack… he wheeled around, forgetting all about undressing, and crossed the room in a blur.

Standing in front of the hearth in her thin slip and bare feet, she suddenly started feeling it. Her toes tingled, her wrists twitched, and with a gasp, she fell to her knees. She was certain this time she would definitely break either her wrist or twist her ankle. The thick Slytherin rug was now mere whispers away from her eyes when two strong arms pulled her up and gathered her against a lean but firm chest.

Pushing her down against the floor, he covered her small body with his large frame, securing her hands next to her body and caging her head under his arm deftly. With nothing else at hand, he had pushed his cravat inside her mouth, stopping her from biting her tongue. He had grabbed that piece of silk before coming to her rescue at the very last minute. Granger's mouth closed around his digits before he could pull them out. From above, he knew, they looked like an odd tangle of flesh and bones but he didn't dare resort to magic.

Hugging her tight, he felt the tremors grow in frequency as she helplessly continued to writhe under him. Burying his head at the crook of her bare shoulder, he concentrated on her pulsating vein wanting to explode against his ear.

Reeling in the waves of her unique smell, the man was already having a hard time. His body was reacting, his mind was thinking more about how good she felt, that the white slip was already turning invisible from getting thoroughly soaked by her sweat. He grimaced and rubbed his cheek against her neck in an attempt to concentrate on her roaring artery once again.

His heart was jubilant to have had the honor at last to be the one to come to her rescue. Here on his bedroom floor, trapped under him, she was not Potter's collateral. She was Mrs. Hermione Snape. She was a part of him as much as he was her. Ever since their marriage ceremony, his magic, his mind, and his soul yearned for this moment to come, though not in this miserable way. Holding her in place, he hugged her with all the compassion he had buried somewhere deep inside his soul or behind the several layers of his Occlumency shields. Struggling to think straight, he failed to notice that without her consent or his intention, he had already slipped deeper into her mind.

It lasted for thirty minutes.

For the whole time, she could hear him speak to her in her mind.

_Miss Granger don't fight it. Hermione, listen to me. I know your nerves are on fire. I know exactly how it burns but you will have to let go. Do not fight it. Just ride it through. I have you. You are not alone. I am here to help. Please, the more you block it the worse it becomes. Concentrate on your breathing. Think about anything else._

_What?_ She had thought back, quaking uncontrollably.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he murmured; _tell me what you feel around you. Wait don't tell just think. Think and catalogue everything you can smell and touch around you._

_I feel you above. I feel the rug below. I feel the warmth of the hearth._

_Good. Good. What else?_

_I feel you._ _I feel you._ _I feel you. Spices, musk, ink, books, Firewhisky, pine leaves, sweat. I feel you. Potions. Blood replenishing potion._

_Keep talking to me...concentrate...Granger..._

_Your magic. fire. Your mind brutal icy wind. Fire and ice. My Amortentia. I can smell it...the dance of the spices, the fumes of a myriad of potions, the tang of aftershave. The bitter taste of fresh coffee and dark chocolate._

Her words had knocked the air out of his lungs. Kicking those stupid rational thoughts into the roaring grate, Snape welcomed the warm sensation that sprouted in the depths of his cold heart and rejoiced as it flew through his frigid veins racing along with his blood and magic, leaving his pores, his skin, his cells, every particle that created him tingle with anticipation.

Drowning in self-pity, the witch couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. Oh Merlin he knows. He knows everything and he will not be happy about it. She knew it, having been around him for seven years, she knew Snape.

She had lied to him, by hiding the truth from him. It was one thing to tell him to his face that she loved him and get laughed at, and entirely another thing to bury her feelings especially now when they were legally married. Out of her wits, the witch whimpered and then began crying in earnest. The fingers she had been biting into slipped out her mouth, pulling out a small piece of cloth with them. She realized Snape had her laid in front of the hearth, sprawled over the thick Slytherin rug. Even if she was wet, she felt warm; even if she was thoroughly frazzled and exhausted, she felt protected.

Normally, the sight they made would make her blush but the circumstances were different. Her extremely white slip had hitched up and exposed her below the hip. She could feel his coarse woollen trousers against her soft skin. Every inch that he touched was alive, hungry for more.

Closing her eyes hard till she saw the stars behind her eyelids, she pleaded, "Please, please don't hate me. Please, sir. I am sorry, I should have told you."

His rich baritone voice rumbled next to her ear, "Do you know how this bonding spell works, Hermione?"

He said her name with such compassion, that it tore her apart further.

Bringing his lips close to her ear, he explained, "Foolish Know-it-all! You had time to dig up my past, yet couldn't manage to spare some time to understand Flitwick's invention? I can hear your thoughts and feel everything you are feeling ever since we got married."

"Oh, Merlin!"

"Yes, I know what you think about me…about having to sleep with me...it frightens you…" He wanted to tell her the rest, but yet.

"No, we have to, Sir. We have to or else they will take you away…"

Rising up a bit, he studied her face and murmured sadly, "But I don't just frighten you, do I? I am this mystery you wish to unearth. Foolish girl! Haven't you dug enough? Haven't you had enough adventure for a lifetime, Miss Granger?"

"Sir, forgive me. I will never take you for granted."

"Why did you agree to marry me? You had two more options. There was Draco and Fred Weasley. Why didn't you pick them instead?"

"I...but you didn't have options. You just had me. No, please understand, I don't pity you. I can't insult you like that."

"Foolish girl."

She gathered all her strength and hissed back, "Stop calling me that. Stop acting as if you don't know already. I will not live a very long life. I might not like Malfoy but I am not going to punish him in such a manner and Fred…no. I would not make him live through it either."

"Why did you pick me?" he asked pensively while brushing his fingers over her wet cheeks.

"Because…" she choked.

Running his thumb over her bottom lip, he implored, "because?"

"Because you would have never loved me back," she whispered and closed her eyes mortified for having to accept it so openly.

Dropping his head over her forehead, Severus swallowed hard.

"I am sorry," she whimpered again.

He sighed and rubbed his nose against her. He didn't plan to do it. It was entirely by accident that his lips brushed against hers. He pulled back and tried to untangle himself when the witch grabbed at his shoulders and asked, "Please honestly tell me, am I that repulsive? Am I not woman enough?"

She watched his pupils dilate and then he closed his eyes and grimaced, cursing under his breath. She had seen enough. Humiliated, she tried to dislodge him off her person. Kicking her legs and, pushing at his shoulder, she tried to get away when two calloused hands grabbed her face and devoured her lips. Sucking at her bottom lip, he deepened the kiss when she unconsciously opened her mouth to shout at him.

Frankly, as far back as his memory went, he didn't remember wanting to kiss someone so badly. He didn't have a lot of practice either. He tilted his head the wrong way, knocked his teeth against her. Somewhere in the mix, he happened to press her further down into the rug, nearly suffocating her in the process. He bit her tongue and sucked on it when she mewed in response, grinding his hip against her stomach.

' _Do I excite you?'_ she thought tentatively.

Fisting his hand into her thick hair he tilted her head back and plunged deeper. With his other hand, he grabbed her slender throat. Rubbing his thumb over her pulse point he feasted on her like a hungry beast of the wild.

She kept on chanting in her mind, submitting to his ministrations like a lamb accepting its approaching death, 'Do I excite you? Do I make you want me? Do I arouse you? Is all this meant for me?'

Tearing his lips off her, stared down at her awestruck face and hissed angrily, "Yes, you do." She gulped and blinked her eyes. Snape watched the fresh tears rolled off. Leaning forward, he began licking them off her face, whispered against her warm skin, "This can wait."

"But do you really mean…"

Huffing at her, he planted yet another stormy kiss and said aloud, panting harder this time around, "First, you need to take your potions and then you need to sleep."

Hermione allowed him to gather her in his arms and marvelled when he effortlessly got up and carried her to the bed. In the soft light of the hearth, she saw he was crying and muttered, "I am sorry," rubbing those tears away from under his eyes. When he sighed at that innocent gesture, she dared to place her palm over his rugged cheek, shuddering inwardly by the way his evening stubble pricked at her skin.

He looked down at her. Leaning into her small palm, nuzzling against its soft skin, he murmured with the softest of smiles he could ever manage to smile, "So am I."


End file.
